[One-Shot Story] Flight

Hey, guys! To celebrate the opening of this subforum, I thought I'd share a small one-shot story I had been concocting for the WCF. Of course, seeing as we're here now, I just thought I'd share it now that I've finished it. I also just posted it on the WCF in case you want to read it there. Please enjoy!

Of the marvellous creatures reputedly existing in some ethereal, concealed world, wyverns were forever regarded by others as the most cautiously superstitious to the extent of hereditary stupidity. To a judgemental onlooker's disdain, a wyvern would cruelly exile another for the lost capability of flight, or believe an innocent dream to herald prophetic capabilities. To them, their forsaken magic couldn't repel the eternal threat of misfortune, or the pallid hand of death itself.

Dreams are a notorious fragment of the mythological underworld- but it was foolishly exacerbated by the primitive tribes of wyverns. Should one suffer the incisive pain of a human's knife in its reptilian wing through the course of a dream, the entire gullible tribe would evade the dreaded location for a full day. With entire tribes locked within the murderous world of dreams like animals in cages, no place held the tantalising safety it previously possessed for the wyverns. To them, the world was a merciless trial; with only their bitter dreams foretelling the arduous day waiting ahead. A pleasant dream was a welcomed rarity.

A marvellous dream... one that a single rejected wyvern wishfully dreamed of one fateful night. He sat, alighted, upon a frigid basalt rock, letting its eroded surface scratch against his armoured scales like a human scratching a cat's ears. Two dancing wyverns, faded into an indistinct shadow by their massive distance from him, wove sinuously around each other in a tantalising, siren-like manner. He gazed longingly into the oceanic sky, unwillingly following their teasing movements, watching the clouds drifting indolently overhead. His lissom body stretched compulsively, instinctively urging him to leap from his rock and into the air below. His leathery wings, conjoined expertly to his flanks by nature's authoritative paw, fluttered yearningly, and before he could control his bestial desires, he lunged from his precarious perch...

His fantastic wings opened supportively beside him, transforming his uncontrollable fall into a skilled flight. A burst of wind pushed like a dog against his emerald face, as if it desired the scratch of his abrasive scales. The wandering river, with its multiple branching tributaries, explored the verdant prairie stretching its thousand lush fingers, embracing the free water like a friend. The saccharine scent of sap filled the untainted air as the distinct edge of the forest approached upon the horizon. The wretched, tiny forms of human lumberjacks below, like specks of blood upon a pristine blade of grass, swarmed parasitically around a fallen tree, supporting its ancient weight upon their delicate backs.

As it passed fleetingly beneath him, a raven accompanied him upon his solitary flight, watching him with a beautiful pair of onyx eyes. Although the rancid stench of decomposing meat clung to its night-black feathers, it was soon concealed by the benevolent touch of the unstoppable breeze. The independent wyvern landed upon the weathered branch of an ancient tree, clasping its peeling bark in his ivory talons and supporting one clawed, perfect wing against its trunk. A human society had ingrained its impenetrable roots in the earth, working in one sentient group to defend its fragile structure from the influence of the harsh elements. Despite their petty quarrels and volatile brawls, each influenced another's actions positively, instinctively forming an indestructible group to retain their usurped rule. The wyvern watched their intricate mannerisms in fascination, enjoying the comforting scent of smoke and admiring the sturdy manner in which they built their proficient defences. He could wait for an exhausting eternity, analysing their dexterous paws; their guileful minds...

As the surrounding darkness closed around him like a protective claw, his mind was startled abruptly into wakefulness. A blinding veil of shadow had enclosed itself around his sanguinary eyes, obstructing his gaze malevolently. The wide-eyed moon, having ascended to its mystical zenith, glared superiorly towards him, examining his runty body with a judgemental eye. Yearning for the liberating flight he had so recently experienced, the fractured spokes of his destroyed wings twitched as if sentient, like the twitching tail of a roosting dove.

The wyvern waited, longingly, for his mangled wings to reform themselves from the insubstantial power of his mind- but to his dismay, no desiccated film covered his armoured forelegs; no magnificent sails brought him into the refreshing air. Slowly, the superstitious wyverns forsook their abhorred legends, believing themselves indestructible due to the ineffectiveness of their paranoid dreams. It was, then, the legendary transformation of the wyverns: creatures who shifted from cautious recluses to the bestial marauders humans know in mythology today.